


stars burn out

by Artikka



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Electrocution, Episode: s04e04 Shadow Warrior, Episode: s04e15 Deception, Force Shenanigans (Star Wars), Gen, Human Lightning Rod Anakin Skywalker, Hurt Anakin Skywalker, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Major Character Death in some chapters, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Minor Ahsoka Tano/Original Female Character(s), Padmé Amidala Lives, Post-Episode: s04e15 Deception, Rako Hardeen Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), Shadow Warrior AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artikka/pseuds/Artikka
Summary: A collection of snippets, aus, and drabbles that take place in a galaxy far, far, away. Mostly prequels/clone wars focused. Enjoy!
Relationships: Dooku & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 145
Kudos: 213
Collections: New SW Canon Server Works





	1. Agni Kai

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in an avatar au brainstormed by the lovely folks at the new sw canon discord server, in which Anakin is the Avatar and kidnapped/inducted into the fire nation by Sidious, heir to the throne, and Plagueis, current firelord
> 
> note that I have a separate, very different avatar au on my tumblr, in which Anakin is not the avatar. that one will be up on ao3 eventually!! but it'll be in a different work :)

The boy is eleven years old when Sidious finally manages to teach him to hold his tongue. 

It starts with one of Plagueis’s speeches about unrest and riots in the streets. The nobility listens in silence, as usual, eyes glimmering with fervent agreement, and the boy is off to the side, as usual, on his knees to the right of the throne. His robes are decorated with Plageuis’s sigils. Mark of allegiance, of loyalty. Of ownership. 

Then Plagueis makes a statement. Something about the glory of the empire, the blindness of those fools who rebel. The ungratefulness of the populace. Nothing particularly out of place. But the boy doesn’t seem to think so, because Plagueis is suddenly interrupted from a bitter laugh in the corner of the room. Heads turn.

“Haven’t you realized yet?” Skywalker says, gazing into the distance and not yet aware, Sidious notes furiously, fist clenching, of the grave mistake he’s making. “You’re a tyrant. You’re a slaver. There is  _ nothing _ glorious about your Empire, and the people will never,  _ never _ stop fighting you.”

The room goes deathly still. 

Skywalker, breathing heavily, takes an involuntary step backwards. He’s forgotten to kneel, Sidious notes absently. One of the very first lessons they taught him, and he’s forgotten.

He can pinpoint the exact second the boy realizes what he’s done. His eyes widen in sudden fear.

Plagueis rises to speak, but Sidious gets there first. This is his job, after all. Protecting their great nation from disloyalty. From threats.

“Anakin Skywalker,” he says, savoring each syllable, savoring the eyes that turn to him from every corner of the room, “had you been anyone else, you would be executed for your crimes against our nation. Fortunately, I am aware of your. . . unusual circumstances. These traitorous ideas have been planted in you from a young age. You will learn.”

He takes a slow breath. The room is tense.

“You are challenged to an Agni Kai, boy. Perhaps it will teach you what our finest teachers could not.” 

The boy’s face goes white, and Sidious feels a thrill at the fear he can see running through him. He has always been in charge of the boy’s punishments, but this. . . this is different. 

He will enjoy it.

When it comes down to it, the fight is brief. A flicker of satisfaction hums deep within him at the fact that the boy is almost afraid to fight back. It seems  _ some _ lessons have at least gotten through.

The smoke clears and Skywalker is on the ground, curled in on himself and holding back gasps and whimpers of pain. His arms, both of them, are mottled and discolored, and tendrils of smoke curl off of them. It seems Sidious had gone a little too far.

The nobility in the audience seems shocked, at least. Some have turned away. Some have a hand over their mouths. He’ll have to remember their faces for Plagueis later, in case there are any divided loyalties within their midst.

“Get up, boy,” he tells Skywalker, who, with a glassy, unfocused gaze, seems to be on the verge of passing out from the pain. The boy doesn’t move.

“I said,” he grabs him by the arm roughly, ignoring the sharp cry that the action provokes, “ _ get up. _ ”

He twists Skywalker’s arm behind him and forces him in front of Plagueis. “Kneel.”

He drops down without a fight, trying to bite back another whimper. Plagueis meets his eyes and smiles with a dark satisfaction.

“Consider this a lesson.”


	2. Empty Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Chancellor Palpatine shouldn't have confessed that he didn't, in fact, know how to save Padme.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, blinking rapidly. “but I just want to be sure I heard this right. You said you _don’t_ actually know the secret to ‘stopping death itself’?”

The Chancellor spared a cursory glance at the wreckage of the office before turning back to Anakin with an awkward laugh. “My dear boy, it is true that only one has achieved that power, but with the two of us working together now, there is nothing we won’t be able to accomplish. Now, I will need your help if I am to stop this betrayal at its source.”

He stood, dusting off his robes and sending the toppled chairs back to their places with a lazy flick of his wrist. 

“So. . . I just betrayed Master Windu. . . for _nothing_?”

The Chancellor turned back around. “I beg your pardon?”

“You told me--and I quote--that you’d be able to ‘save the ones I loved’. But it’s looking more and more like you don’t have the slightest idea _how_ to do that. How are you going to ‘save’ my wife, Chancellor? Do you even know what you need to save her from?”

Suddenly Anakin froze.

“And,” he said quietly, coldly, “I never even told you about the dreams to begin with, did I?”

“Anakin, my boy, you are misunderstanding--”

Anakin took a step backward, face drained of all color. “No,” he said, “no, I don’t think I am.”

“Padme,” he said, speaking into the comm on his wrist without once taking his eyes off of the Chancellor, “you and your Senator friends have a bit of a problem.” 

“The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic is the Sith Lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this started out crack but got kinda serious, oops


	3. Tenuous Trades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow Warrior AU. To Count Dooku's surprise, Senator Amidala declines the trade.

All in all, Skywalker gives him far more trouble than he expected. 

The boy may be sloppy, ill-trained, and unbalanced, but in the end Dooku has to rely on an array of four Magnaguards and resort to copious amounts of electricity to subdue him, and it leaves him in a rather. . . irritable mood.

The last thing he needs is for his Master to catch wind of his near failure. 

He, after this most recent skirmish, can grudgingly admit to himself that he understands what Sidious sees in the boy. The raw power, the _sheer potential_ , is evident. Nevertheless, it is insulting to have to defend his position against some common desert rat. _Especially_ after having to deal with Grievous’s catastrophic failure.

Gungans. The Separatists’ greatest weapon and most feared general has been defeated by Gungans. 

It is fortunate that Sidious has formulated a contingency plan. Otherwise their war might have taken a rather unpreferable turn.

Either way, it seems he can trust in Senator Amidala’s convenient attachment to Skywalker to provide a neat solution to their dilemma. He had been unaware of it before, but the information is sure to become useful again in the future. 

He throws a glance back at the boy. Skywalker is still hanging unconscious in the containment field, head bowed and limbs occasionally spasming from the aftereffects of the electricity. He wonders distantly if Skywalker had even been conscious for the call an hour prior. If he had known that they were discussing trading him off like cattle at an auction.

The thought brings him some satisfaction. Sidious may have some strange obsession with the boy, one that he’s willing to hinge battles on at times, but Skywalker will always be. . . disposable. Not like Dooku himself.

The comm beeps insistently. Dooku turns away from Skywalker’s limp, bruised form, and switches it on.

“Senator Amidala,” Dooku says, “at last. I trust you have come to a decision?”

She straightens, clenching her jaw tightly and looking him in the eyes. “I have.” There’s a pause, and she seems to visibly steel herself. “The Republic,” she says, “will not be making any prisoner exchange at this time.” 

What?

_What?_

This. . . this _cannot_ be. Sidious had _assured_ him there would be no issue. 

It seems he and his Master have misjudged Senator Padme Amidala.

“Is that so, Senator?” he grinds out, gesturing to the Magnaguards behind him. “I believe it would be wise of you to. . . reconsider that decision.”

The Magnaguards switch off the ray shield and plunge their pikes into Skywalker’s twitching form, not letting up even as the boy jerks back and forth and screams and eventually goes completely limp. It’s pathetic how the Senator flinches at his hoarse screams.

“The Republic,” she repeats, her voice less steady than before, “will _not_ be making any prisoner exchange at this time.”

“So quick to turn your backs on your ‘hero’?” Dooku spits venomously. “I was under the impression the Republic valued its precious Jedi Generals. Or are they all so disposable to you?”

She flinches at that, too. “I’m sorry, Count.” It’s clear it’s not him she’s apologizing to. “The Republic has made its decision.”

The call ends with an anticlimactic _click_ , and Dooku restrains himself from crushing the comm to pieces. 

He opts for grinding his teeth instead, clenching his hands into fists. The _insolence_ of that woman. How _dare_ she?

He considers, grinds his teeth some more, and decides that the petty satisfaction is worth it. With a wave of his hand, the ray shield flickers off, and he steps forward.

“You,” he snarls, yanking the boy’s head up by the chin and gripping tightly, “have landed yourself in a very _unfortunate_ position.”

Skywalker’s eyelids flutter. He gives a quiet moan of pain before opening his eyes a sliver. They’re glassy and unfocused; Dooku digs his nails in until Skywalker finally manages to focus on him. 

He lets go, and steps backwards. Skywalker’s head falls forward again, but at least he’s conscious now. 

“Your precious Senator,” he spits, “has declined to trade for you. Has deemed you _not valuable_ enough.”

“Padme,” Skywalker mutters, trying and failing to lift his head. His gaze snaps up with sudden intensity. “ _What did you do to her?”_

“ _Amidala_ is fine.” He spares a thought to the comm again; if it wasn’t for the call he would need to make to his Master, he would have crushed it by now, uncaring of the consequences. Skywalker relaxes somewhat and Dooku pushes down the irritation. “You, however, will not be.”

Skywalker doesn’t respond to that.

“She isn’t going to save you, boy. She had the opportunity to free you and threw it away without so much as a backwards glance.”

The word “free” seems to garner a reaction, at least. Skywalker flinches minutely, and Dooku hums in satisfaction. 

“So unsurprised, Skywalker?” He wonders idly if it’s the lack of strength keeping Skywalker’s head bowed, or something else. “I was under the impression Amidala _loved_ you.” 

He says nothing. The silence stretches until finally, “She loves the Republic,” the boy says, his voice raspy and weak. An eerie grin starts to stretch across his face, and he lifts, with difficulty, his head to look Dooku in the eyes, “And you will _lose_.”

“Does she,” Dooku says. It isn’t a question.

He’s tempted to let the droids shock Skywalker into unconsciousness again, but any more electrocution and he might be veering into “permanent damage” territory. Sidious doesn’t want his prized possession to be turned into some blubbering mess, after all. 

Instead, he turns the ray shield back on with a flick of his fingers and gestures for the Magnaguards to return to their positions. He doesn’t look back as he exits the room. The brat hardly merits it.

Besides, Sidious will be waiting for him.

And the two of them, master and apprentice, will want to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the possibilities. . . are endless. . .
> 
> I always need more fics dealing with this episode tbh, there is so much going on and so many avenues to explore!! also damn. anakin really got electrocuted THAT many times in one episode huh. rip


	4. to prevent death itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different take on the Sidious-draining-Padme's life force theory.
> 
> (aka after hearing about Darth Plagueis, Anakin goes on a mad hunt through the Archives and every bit of information possible to find out how to save people from death. He finds a solution--transferring life force from one person to another--and takes it to a rather different conclusion than the one Palpatine prefers)

“Just--humor me.” he says instead, still smiling slightly.

“Well. Alright then.” She closes her eyes. It’s strange. For all that he keeps muttering about the dreams, Anakin seems more relaxed than he’s seemed in days. Weeks, even. It’s as if some burden has been lifted from his shoulders; perhaps he’s finally gone and talked to Obi-wan like she’s suggested.

Anakin reaches forward to cup her face, and for a second Padme thinks he might lean in to kiss her. He doesn’t, however, and instead leans back and holds her hands tightly in his.

“It’ll be fine.” he repeats again, in that same utterly unnerving tone of voice. “Don’t worry.”

“ _I’m_ not the one who’s worried--” Padme begins to say, but trails off. She feels. . . she’s not sure how to describe it. Warm, all of a sudden? Stronger. Lighter. 

It’s. . . _incredible_. Is this what Anakin feels like, all the time, with the power of the force at his fingertips? She feels better than she’s ever felt, _alive_ in a way she’s never been before, not even back when none of the universe’s politics weighed down on her shoulders.

She wonders if she’s imagining the light she sees blooming underneath her eyelids. 

Suddenly Anakin’s grip slackens. Padme doesn’t make much of it until his hands slip out of hers and she hears him crash to the floor.

Jolted out of her reverie, she snaps her eyes open. “Anakin,” she says, rushing over to where he’s prone on the ground. She wonders half-deliriously for a second if he’s fallen asleep. “Anakin, are you alright?”

He doesn’t respond. Could he have passed out, maybe? He still hasn’t told her _what_ it was he was doing but--force damn it, he could be so impulsive. She shouldn’t have humored him at all, should have insisted--

Wait.

He’s--he’s not _breathing_.

No. No, this can’t be. He’s just--he’s just passed out, it can’t mean anything-- “Anakin?” she asks, again, desperately. She shakes him. No response. 

That. . . no. _No._

_What has he done?_

“Anakin, please.” She grabs at his wrist, again, and gets nothing, shifting her fingers up to his neck. Nothing, nothing, _nothing._

_There’s no pulse_.

She scrambles backwards--changes her mind, and scrambles forward, cupping his face. “What did you do? Anakin, _answer me!_ ”

His eyes are closed. He doesn’t respond.

He’s still smiling.

  
He’s. . . he’s _dead._


	5. Master Krell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Gallia opens her mouth to respond, but Yoda beats her to it. “Offering to train the boy, are you, Master Krell?”
> 
> * * * *
> 
> Or, the one in which a very undesirable Master gets ahold of Anakin first.

Krell leans back in his Council seat. “Please,” he scoffs. This is getting ridiculous. “Fine. Say we consider accepting the. . . boy. We can’t  _ seriously _ be considering leaving his training to Kenobi of all people.”

Shaak Ti looks up in mild surprise. “And what, exactly, is wrong with Knight Kenobi, Master Krell?”

“He’s in no state to train the Chosen One, let alone any padawan; he’ll give in to the boy’s every whim. Cater to him beyond belief. Skywalker will never learn to be a proper Jedi under Kenobi’s tutelage.”

Master Gallia opens her mouth to respond, but Yoda beats her to it. “Offering to train the boy, are you, Master Krell?”

Krell twists his mouth into a scowl, folds his arms behind his back, and considers. The boy seems sloppy and ill-mannered, yes, and disgustingly defiant, but only a fool would deny his evident power. Skywalker’s Chosen One status may just be the one thing Qui-gon ever got right in his life.

He imagines it now, the Chosen One under his tutelage. Molding that low born brat into the perfect Jedi, the perfect student. The eyes of every Master and every Padawan in the Temple tracking his steps.

“The boy will need a firm hand,” he says at last, “and I believe that I will be equipped to provide it.”

There are some glances exchanged throughout the room. Masters Ti and Windu, in particular, seem unhappy with his suggestions. But they know he’s right. Kenobi will hardly be able to keep up with the boy, let alone train him properly. And he himself is an accomplished Master. There’s no need to give the task to anyone else.

“Very well,” Windu says at last, a slight frown on his face, “We’ll inform Kenobi shortly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably write more in this au some day because damn,,,the possibilities,,,


	6. a kindness

“I was trained in childcare back on Naboo before going into politics, you know."

"Childcare?"

"Yes. I was hoping to become a teacher someday--and I did, for a period of time. I'm afraid I've never quite lost that longing."

"What made you switch to politics, Your Excellency?" Mace says delicately. What the Chancellor's trying to get at, he isn't quite sure. "If I may ask."

"Oh." Chancellor Palpatine's eyes go distant for a second. "My children and. . . grandchild were lost in an accident, many decades ago. Unsafe housing conditions. And instead of working to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again, our government decided the best course of action would be to cover it up."

He blinks rapidly and appears to come back to the present. "I was. . . angry. A bit foolish, if you ask me now. I ran for office a week after and swore I'd never let anything like that happen to any family, ever again. And the people thought I was worth giving a chance."

“You see, Master Windu," the Chancellor says, turning back to him. "Young Anakin reminds me greatly of my late granddaughter. Spirited, clever. Kind. I understand it is an. . . unusual request for me to make, but it would be my most sincere pleasure to mentor the boy, and offer him a comfortable space. This new world must feel so strange and foreign to him.”

Mace isn't quite sure what to say to that. 

Both of them know that this isn't a request. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	7. friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a rough draft of a scene that'll eventually have a place in one of my longer fics!

"Anakin," says the Chancellor gently. "You know I've always been your friend."

The attempt at placation doesn't work. Anakin's too frustrated, too agitated, to stop now.

"Have you?" he says shortly, more to himself than anything. "I've done--" He clenches his hand into a fist and pulls at the fabric of his sleeves-- "I've done _everything_ you've asked of me. I've done your favors, kept your secrets, took your side against the Order _every time it was asked_ \--but what have you done?"

"Anakin. . . " The Chancellor says warningly, but he brushes him off.

“When Ahsoka was on trial, it was out of your hands. With the Clone Rights Bill, it was out of your hands. Taking any Republic action against slavery was “out of your hands”--you knew about my mother since I was _twelve_ , but of course, that was _out of your hands_. _Everything_ has been out of your hands! All you've ever done is sit on your Chancellor’s chair, pat me on the head, and say good job. You haven't acted like a friend, you've acted like an ego boost."

He steps back, breathing heavily. The room is utterly silent; not even a curtain rustles.

"I--" Suddenly Anakin's hands go clammy and he staggers backwards. His hand shoots up to his forehead. Did he just. . . did he just say _all that?_

He. . . yes, he's been frustrated with the Chancellor many times over the years but he'd never--he'd never tell him like _that_.

_What have I done?_

He can't--he can't have just said that the _Chancellor_ \--oh, Palpatine's going to _hate_ him-- "I didn't mean that." he stutters, folding his hands into his sleeves and trying to keep them from shaking. Palpatine's going to _hate_ him, he's never gonna want to see him again--

He chances a quick glance up. Sure enough, the Chancellor's face is stony with shock and hurt.

"I'm--I'm _sorry,_ I--"

  
"Get out." the Chancellor says quietly but coldly. "Get. _out._ "


	8. Master Krell (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more of the Krell trains Anakin au!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for referenced child abuse

He dreams that he's in the Healing Halls, getting the broken arm treated. Vokara Che is bustling about in the room, wrapping the arm into a sling, preparing bone-knitters, and whatnot. His dream self is sitting there dully, not reacting to her pokes and prods and answering her questions in a quiet, mumbling fashion. It doesn't seem to make her very happy.

"Master Krell tells me that you had a training accident yesterday. Is that right, Padawan?"

_"Basic katas." Master Krell spits. "Even the younglings can keep up. And yet you were too lazy to continue." There's a whimper followed by a sickening_ crack.

His dream self stays silent.

"Anakin," Master Che sighs, "It's very simple. I only need you to tell me what happened yesterday. I assure you, I've seen all sorts of ridiculous training accidents before--it's nothing new."

"Master Krell did it," he watches himself say matter-of-factly. "He was mad because I didn't do well in the training salles."

Master Che snaps her head up to face his dream self. The silence stretches.

"Padawan Skywalker," she says in short, clipped tones. "I have known Master Krell since I was a youngling. He may be strict and harsh at times, but he is nothing but fair and would _never_ bring harm to a youngling. And chafing under his teaching methods is no excuse to spread such. . . such _shameful_ stories."

She finishes wrapping the sling, muttering, "I'd heard about your tendency to tell. . .tall tales from your teachers, but I hadn't expected it to stretch this far."

The dream blurs and marches on, faded voices and figures traversing in and out. He hears Vokara Che's murmurs and his Master's angry, low tones, followed by some of the other Padawans, his own voice, and suddenly silence.

The dream ends with himself lying in a pool of his own blood, eyes glassy and neck twisted unnaturally to the side. He can't tell where the body is.

"He was an unstable boy," He hears Master Krell's voice echo, "I regret that I couldn't offer him the help he so clearly needed."

When he wakes, it's with a warning from the force thrumming in his veins.

Maybe it's best that Anakin stays out of his Master's way today.


	9. chance

The doors to the Chancellor's office burst open in the middle of him and Obi-wan's meeting about the Order and trade disputes. 

"What in the world—"

A young man stumbles in, cursing under his breath. "Sorry." he says, scrambling after the loose papers. "Sorry—sorry—"

"Anakin," The Chancellor snaps, turning away from Obi-wan, "Can you not see that I am _not to be interrupted_ right now?"

Obi-wan twists in his seat to get a better look.

_Anakin?_ As in—that boy, the one snapping up to follow the Chancellor's orders with a miserable expression on his face—is the same one that he and Qui-gon found on Tatooine ten years ago? The same one that the Chancellor offered official sanctuary to when it was eventually decided he was too dangerous to be trained?

Obi-wan takes a closer look. Anakin looks . . . well, tall. He's probably taller than Obi-wan now, he thinks with a pang. And tired. Now that he's focusing, Obi-wan can see the dark circles and skittish gaze. The Chancellor seems like a good man but, still, working under the most powerful man in the galaxy must be exhausting.

Anakin's gaze snaps up, and suddenly a chill runs through him. But the moment passes and Obi-wan tells himself it must be the jagged scar running down his eye that had given him such a shock. 

He wonders if Anakin still podraces.

His force signature is much, _much_ quieter than Obi-wan remembers, though. So it worked, then. His abilities, without training, must have faded over time just like the Council said they would.

After a few more hissing words from Palpatine and muttered apologies from Anakin, the boy stumbles towards the door with the complete stack of papers in arms. 

The Chancellor turns back to Obi-wan as the door closes. "I apologize for the disturbance, Master Kenobi. Anakin is. . . eager to please, but still rather undisciplined." He forces a smile. "Shall we continue?"

There's a silence before Obi-wan realizes the Chancellor is waiting for an answer from _him_. "Oh," he says, dragging his focus back to the task at hand. "Of course. And it's no trouble at all—it was. . . nice to see Anakin again."

"Ah." Palpatine smiles politely again. "I'll make sure to pass the message along."

Yes, of course. Back to trade disputes it is, as usual. 

Though, try as he might, Obi-wan can't shake a faint sense of unease.

(There was something very strange about Anakin's gaze. . .)


	10. met a girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy femslash february!

The thugs are fairly easy to subdue, to be honest. Even without her sabers and with a makeshift staff in its place, she has them all on the ground in minutes, and the bargoers returning back to their drinks even sooner. 

It's when Ahsoka makes her way back to her drink by the counter that she notices the singular pair of eyes still on her.

" _Damn_ , girl," says the barmaid, setting down the last of her mugs and surveying the carnage with a grin, "I'd let _you_ run me through with that staff, if you know what I mean."

Ahsoka chokes on her drink.

"What?" the girl continues, leaning forward with a half-hidden grin. "No one ever tell you that you look damn fine when kicking ass?"

"Not—" Ahsoka splutters some more and tries not to think about the heat rising to her cheeks. "Not quite, no."

The barmaid hums and goes back to wiping off the countertops. "Shame. You ought to hear it more. Anyways, you free tonight?"

"S'not like I've got anywhere to be." Ahsoka says, then realizes exactly _what_ the girl is asking and feels a flutter rise in her chest. "We don't even know each other's names," she adds through a laugh, marveling at the Twi'lek's confidence.

"Myra," she says. "The name's Myra. And you?"

"Ahsoka."

"Well, Ahsoka." Myra leans forward again with a grin. "Meet me here in an hour and we can make a night out of it, how about that? I know all the nicest spots in the city."

A practiced rejection falls to her lips before she remembers—she's not a Jedi anymore. She hasn't been a Jedi for nearly a year. And she _wants_ this, an easy evening with a pretty girl. Why shouldn't she? 

"You know what," Ahsoka grins, "I think I'd like that."


	11. hardeen

He enters the room slowly and silently—it's an ungodly hour of the morning, so Ahsoka's still asleep and has no idea he's here. Behind the door, Masters Yoda and Windu are waiting for him, seated in the chairs by the window. The light in the room is dim; the sun is barely out yet, and the meditation rooms love their natural lighting more than just about any other room in the Temple.

"Knight Skywalker," Yoda says, "have something you wanted to share with us, do you?"

"Yes," He moves forward. His voice is still hoarse and rough from disuse. "Uh,"

There's a silence. They continue to watch him, neutrally.

"I'm here because—" he swallows stiffly and tries to push the words out— "because Ahsoka needs a new Master."

Master Yoda and Master Windu look at him in surprise. Yoda's eyes widen. Windu raises an eyebrow. Evidently, this isn't what they expected him to say. 

"And. . . why is that, Skywalker?" Master Windu says delicately, exchanging a glance of concern with Yoda.

There's a silence. Admittedly, he hadn't expected them to ask. He thought it would have been obvious. 

He closes his eyes and takes a breath, then tries, haltingly, to answer. "Ahsoka needs. . . Ahsoka needs a master who can guide her. And teach her. Properly. I can't—I can't do that anymore."

"Train Ahsoka so far, _Obi-wan_ did not." Yoda says, "Train Ahsoka _you_ have. And a fine job you have done. Stop now, you should not."

"I can't do it anymore," he whispers, eyes trained downwards, "She needs someone who can protect her, who is. . . a good teacher and a good Jedi and I'm—" _Broken_ , he doesn't say out loud. _Obi-wan's dead and I'm broken and I'll never be whole again_.

He blinks back a sudden rush of tears. A good master wouldn't break into sobs at the mere thought of their old master. They'd be stronger than that. 

A good master wouldn't have let their master be killed in the first place, by a mere blaster bolt. What sort of Jedi is he, that he can't sense the danger that's right in front of him? Obi-wan was trusting him, trusting him to have his back, and now look where they are.

The air in the room is thick with. . . some emotion he can't decipher. Masters Yoda and Windu exchange some more glances before Master Windu finally speaks up again.

"Skywalker," he says haltingly, "you are a perfectly capable master and teacher. Grieving doesn't make you any less of one."

_It isn't the grief,_ he wants to say. _He died because of me._ Obi-wan grieved his master too, and he was the best of the Jedi. But Qui-gon's death hadn't been _Obi-wan's_ fault. 

"I couldn't block one blaster bolt." Anakin says roughly, then— "Please." He takes a shaky breath. "Ahsoka _needs_ a better master."

He hates being reduced to begging but he'll do it, for Ahsoka. For her to have the chances she deserves. 

There's another long silence. 

"How about we give it some time," Master Windu suggests gently, still looking at him with the same mix of sympathy and concern. "If you still feel the same way in a few weeks time, then we can. . . speak again."

He blinks. A few weeks? Can Ahsoka _afford_ to wait a few weeks? Can he even hold it together in front of her until then? "Fine," he says shortly, not even caring if he sounds rude. "Thank you for your time, masters."

He gets up and walks out, barely taking the time for a bow. The door doesn't shut behind him and he can't bring himself to care.

Yoda and Windu gaze after him for a long time.


	12. mauled

"Well," Anakin says lightly, "clearly you don't know Obi-wan very well at all."

This seems to anger Maul more than anything he's said before. "I know Kenobi better than you could ever _dream_ ," he hisses, wrapping a hand around Anakin's neck and _squeezing_ , "I know his every strength; his every weakness—everything he's ever tried to hide from his _precious_ Order."

He lets go just as it becomes too much and the edges of Anakin's vision begin to go dark—coughing and spluttering, he tries to regain his breath. "And what," he rasps, noting distantly that the wise thing for him to do would be to shut up, "you think that _I'm_ one of those weaknesses?" In Anakin's dreams, maybe. He _wishes_ he were one of those weaknesses. But Obi-wan, at his core, is pragmatic and coolly rational over anything. He's sure Obi-wan cares for him—hopefully? maybe?—in his own way. But at the end of the day, it depends on his usefulness. He was useful before, as a general. Then he became more useful as a reaction to sell an undercover mission. Now? Wholly incapacitated and incapable of holding his own in a fight? 

Well. _He_ wouldn't rescue himself either.

Besides, they're in wartime. They don't exactly have the resources to waste on finding _one_ missing Jedi general in the midst of all the campaigns being fought, one that's probably already assumed dead.. Obi-wan no doubt knows this—he's practical like that. 

It shouldn't hurt. It _doesn't_ hurt. He'll die here and that's fine, it's fine, he can take it. It's just simple logic. 

Why does it hurt?

Maul doesn't deign to answer. He simply scoffs at him and leaves, leaving Anakin chained up to ponder.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr's @ilonga so stop by if you wanna yell, ask questions, or just say hi! :D


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